If The White Lotus has taught us anything, it’s that enlightenment can be achieved in many ways. For Daphne Sullivan, in season 2, it’s by cultivating a sense of unknowable mystery between yourself and your partner, aka leaving room for extramarital affairs. For Quinn Mossbacher, in season 1, it’s by bringing your bedding to the beach and ditching your screen addiction to join a group of native Hawaiian paddlers. And this season, for our brand new character, Frank, an old friend of Rick’s, spiritual enlightenment was achieved by a years-long marathon of lasciviousness; sex with thousands of women which evolved into a sexual and gender exploration with “ladyboys” and then men who looked like him while he dressed up in lingerie and hired Asian women to watch him get fucked. This then brought him to Buddhism and a desire to be sober and celibate. Definitely more exciting than the Calm app!
The old friends met up at a hotel in Bangkok so Frank could hand off a gun to Rick. And I was delighted by the batshit monologue Frank (played by Sam Rockwell, Leslie Bibb aka “Kate’s” IRL husband, by the way!) delivered over chamomile tea. It wasn’t totally clear the history of their relationship, but if I had to guess, it’d be something along the lines of “fellow party boys who got into some semi-to fully illegal shit together.” I also found myself relating to Rick for the first time, mouth agape in disbelief at what he was hearing. Yes, his old friend’s confessional touched on latent homosexuality and trans identity, but that actually wasn’t the core revelation he took from his sexual escapades. “Are we our forms? Am I a middle-aged white guy on the inside, too? Or inside can I be an Asian girl?” Frank wonders. “I don’t know,” Rick answers, bewildered and honest.
More than just being an entertainingly epic story of his wayward path to sobriety, Frank’s monologue provided the much-needed philosophical thesis of the season. Are we our forms?
My tertiary understanding of “form” in Buddhism is that it pertains to the body and the external world we experience through that body. So, are we? For most of the Ratliff family, the answer is yes. No one’s identity is more wrapped up in their material, geographical, and biographical markers than Victoria; her body barely functions outside of the Research Triangle. Saxon is a close second. Timothy feels the only way he can break from his “form” is by ending his life; Piper is desperately trying to break from hers, and step out of the predestined life she has set before her, even if just for a year; Lachlan is having a rocking time exploring the boundaries of his by taking party drugs, hooking up with Chloe, and, uhm, well, his brother, Saxon. (Shout out to Frank’s monologue being so wild, it made the incest storyline not the standout moment of the episode.)
For the trio of blondes whose old habits die (and drink) hard, the answer to “Are we our forms” also seems to be “Yes.” Jaclyn’s constant search for anyone’s gaze, be it desirous, envious, or disapproving, gives her a sense of self. Kate feels tied to her safe identity as an “old lady” (much to Jaclyn’s dismay) and Laurie can dance all she wants at the beach club but still ends the night spiraling poolside about her divorce.
Meanwhile, Belinda and Greg’s troubles have followed them halfway around the world. Belinda doesn’t seem as beholden to the limits of her form, perhaps thanks to her career in wellness and healing. Also, as an aside, her enthusiastic yet nervous sexual enlightenment with Pornchai was wonderful.
Of course, Frank isn’t fully enlightened. Sober and celibate he might be, he still handed off a gun to his old friend. Throughout all three seasons of the show, the adage “wherever you go, there you are” or “wherever you vacation, you’ve brought your own packed baggage” holds true. But maybe, just maybe, Frank’s monologue can help Rick put some much-needed space between his form and spirit. Or it could at least convince him to not avenge his father’s death.
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Still here. Still without airbrushing. Still with teeth.
